


Wildflowers

by coveredbyroses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: You tell Dean something long overdue.





	Wildflowers

“Hey, Dean.” God, that sounds so forced. You can feel the tightness in your voice, the familiar strain that coils itself around your words when you’re nervous.

You clear your throat. “So I just…I just really need you to hear me out, just listen…okay?” You look down, kick at the dead grass with the toe of your brown boot. “I’ve never been really good at this. Talking, I mean.” You woosh out a heavy breath. “But I feel like…I feel like you should know.” Your lips press together on their own, like the paranoia inside you is begging you to keep your mouth shut.

You look up, eyes drinking in the pastel blue of the cloudless sky. You level your head and smile. “I just want you to know that I l—” Your voice breaks,  _dammit_. You take a breath, release it slow. “I love you.” You shake your head. “I dunno why I never told you before. I didn’t wanna believe it for a long time.” You release a soft chuckle. “Love’s for bitches.” You run a nervous hand through your hair. “But uh, I’ve always loved you, I think.”

There’s a gust of warm breeze and you shift your feet, worry at your lip. “Oh, and um, I brought you something.” You bring the bouquet from behind your back, the roots still caked with dirt from where you’d plucked them from the earth. Wildflowers. 

“I know, dude,” you smile. “Flowers?” Your fingers play with a soft lavender petal. “ I dunno. They just kinda remind me of you, ya know?” You swallow. “All the…all the different colors—and they grow wherever they damn well want to.”

You take two steps, crouch down to gently lay the floral assortment across the dry grass, just in front of the simple wooden cross. “See you around, Dean,” you whisper, at last allowing an enthusiastic tear to spill down your cheek.

“You ready?” Sam asks from behind you. You turn, hand flying to brush the wet from your face.

“Yeah,” you breathe, flashing the Winchester your bravest smile. “Let’s go.”


End file.
